


Sense

by Ka5hew



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ka5hew/pseuds/Ka5hew
Summary: Frank was gentle on Matt’s senses
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 116





	Sense

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! This was just a nice idea I felt like writing about, hope u enjoy it :)))

Frank was gentle on his senses. 

Most people wouldn’t expect that. The idea that a man who constantly smelt of blood, sweat and gunpowder was ‘gentle’ on someone with an enhanced sense of smell was hard to believe, but it was true nonetheless. 

To Matt, Frank didn’t just smell of gunpowder and blood. Sure, the smell was still there, but in a comforting way, almost reassuring. But Frank also smelt sweet, and not the kind of sweetness you’d associate with flowers or candies, but the kind that didn’t really smell of anything materialistic, just sweet. 

Some days, he’d smell of coffee and pancakes, making it obvious that he’d eaten breakfast at a diner. He’d always stand a little closer on those days, knowing how Matt loved the smell.  
But Frank didn’t need to stand close for him to smell it, he definitely knew that. But when he did, every breath Matt took intoxicated him with the other mans scent.  
And Matt loved it. 

Usually, Matt hated how even the smallest whispers sounded like the person was shouting in his ear, but when Frank spoke, it was with a gruff and grating voice.

His voice was scratchy and usually rough, but it was unusually pleasant to Matts ears, and sent shivers down his spine.  
Even the simplest “hey red” would echo in his head at night, driving him insane, but he loved it.

The gentlest part of Frank was his touch; It was a lot more controlled than his voice, whether he was fighting or not. 

When he fought, every action was planned, and Matt could tell. Every punch, every kick, every gunshot was intentional and prepared.  
When he didn’t, it was usually the soft touches lingering on Matt’s skin as he stitched him up, or the careful hands that guided him to the steady heartbeat during the worse nights.

It was all bliss.  
And Matt loved it.


End file.
